


Ship of Dreams

by ACatWhoWrites



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Cruise Ship, Alternate Universe - Historical, Class Differences, Historical References, M/M, RMS Titanic, community: Baekbitfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-08-19 13:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16535747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACatWhoWrites/pseuds/ACatWhoWrites
Summary: Prompt #: 62Title: Ship of DreamsPairing: Baekhyun/JonginSummary: Jongin's making his way to America in hopes of a better life, one where he can support himself with his art. Baekhyun is an aristocrat supporting himself on his family's money, making his way to America to be married to someone he's not in love with.





	Ship of Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I've literally watched the 1997 _Titanic_ once in my lifetime and didn't follow the plot at all. Originally, this was going to be from Jongin/Jack's POV, but I changed it. I think it works better, but I could've done more. This only covers the first three days of the journey, and they're pretty glossed over, because I wanted to make the setting and layout as accurately as possible but kept getting confused.
> 
> My laptop died completely while writing this, so I've had to use a borrowed computer in my basement, and I gotta say that writing in a windowless room is tiring. I did my best, and I hope someone gets some enjoyment from it.
> 
> Lastly, I have to give credit to any remote facts about the RMS Titanic to Wikipedia.

No matter how many times he sees it, the sheer size and majesty of the gigantic ocean liner still stuns Baekhyun.

It floats elegantly in the harbor, strings of colorful flags decorating the railings and strung between the four funnels to dress it up even more for its maiden voyage. Along with passengers and their families, strangers and curious onlookers line the docks and streets, hoping for a good look at the ship and who may be boarding.

His brother steps up beside him and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Four years...and this dream is finally a reality. And then four weeks for you, little brother, until the reality is yours.” After the relaxing ocean passage, Baekhyun will be thrust into the madness of wedding preparations. His fiance's father and uncle own the company that commissioned the ship; Baekhyun's father owns the company that provided building materials. It's a match made in corporate heaven; the papers all praise the smart union or gush over the “sweet young couple,” even though he will be the woman's second husband in as many years.

Baekhyun has no real opinion aside from boredom. He's used to not having any say in his life and tries to reclaim some personal identity wherever he can.

“Are you sure you want to take your _dog_ on the ship?” Baekbom asks. Mongryong, a short-legged, blond-haired dog, pants heavily at their feet, eagerly pacing right and left and eyeing all the people. He pulls at his leash and whines.

Bending down, Baekhyun hefts the Corgi into his arms with a bright smile. “He's paid for his ticket, just like the rest of us. I was told the stewards would be sure to walk him daily, if I can't.” Their mother, a small, pretty woman, shuffles carefully through the crowd and greets her sons with a frown.

“Put that dog on the ground where it belongs, Baekhyun. It's got legs.” She steps between the young men and takes their arms. “The harbor is flooded with reporters and photographers. This is world-wide news!” Anything for publicity, even showing off her children like thoroughbred horses. “Your father is already aboard. Miss Kim and her parents are, as well, I believe.” Baekbom's wife had taken an earlier ship with her mother, traveling sooner to be sure the Byuns' house is ready for their return.

For the large crowd, they ascend the gangway and emerge onto the shiny deck rather quickly. Mongryong yips as his paw is stepped on, and Baekhyun lifts him again, ignoring his mother's displeased scowl. He finds a spot near the railing and looks out over the milling, shouting throng, feeling a bit like a king looking over his subjects. There are easily thousands of spectators, and everyone is energetic and excited. Baekhyun wouldn't be surprised if people are pushed into the water with how closely they press forward.

Other first-class passengers and middle-class passengers spread out over the upper decks while third-class and on-board staff are directed towards lower decks and steerage. Most everyone is outside, waving and hollering even if they don't have anyone to wave or holler to, and the people on shore respond in kind.

It should take about a week to reach the other side of the ocean, and they will all travel in luxurious style with no expenses spared. He's sat in on enough meetings to know the architecture of the ship is inspired by one of the most magnificent hotels as well as royal tastes from the 14th to 17th centuries, recreating the subdued, comfortable atmosphere of a luxury hotel or country manor rather than the heavily adorned and extravagant company competitors' styles. Lounges, libraries, theaters, restaurants, gymnasiums, and even cafes are all on board. The athletically inclined will find plenty to expend their energy on just as the alcoholically inclined will find plenty to spend their money on.

A loud horn blares, barely cutting through the din of the crowds. Mongryong snaps at some flying confetti and snorts as he inhales a piece.

Baekhyun turns and shields his eyes from the sun. Three of the four funnels belch smoke; the fourth is purely aesthetic and offers ventilation. It does add some balance, he thinks. 

The ship slowly pulls out of port, heading for the first of two stops before heading for open water.

Baekhyun's cabin is on B-Deck, one of the grander suites he's sharing with his brother. Mongryong follows eagerly, stumpy tail wagging at all the new smells and people.

A steward _a-hems_ to Baekhyun's right. “Would you like me to take your dog to the kennels, sir?”

Baekhyun smiles and shakes his head. “No, that's alright. He's staying with me.”

“My apologies, sir, but all of our passengers are asked to house their pets in the kennels.”

“I understand that, but he is staying with me.”

“Please be reasonable,” the steward says, sweating a little over his brow. “For the safety and comfort of our passengers—”

“What about the safety and comfort of my dog?” The steward is young. It's very probably his first voyage and first time dealing with unaccommodating passengers. “What's your name? Do you have any idea who I am?”

”Yes, Mr. Byun. I am simply following my orders, given by the captain.”

A deep voice interrupts them. “Lee.” The captain, a tall, handsome older man with rugged features and alert eyes approaches from the opposite end of the hall. He's making a round of the upper decks, greeting passengers and answering questions. Baekhyun met him before the first launch of the ship; he's friends with his father and a good man. “What is the matter?”

“Captain,” Steward Lee sighs gratefully, catching himself and standing straight. “I was reminding Mr. Byun of our pets policy. He's refusing to house his dog in the kennels.”

“Best do as he says, son,” the captain says to Baekhyun. Mongryong sniffs his shoe, leaving wet smears on the shiny leather. “It's no punishment; he will be well cared for. The kennels are on F-Deck. You can reach them from the Grand Staircase.” Leaving no room for argument, the captain leaves, and Lee again offers to take Mongryong.

“No,” Baekhyun replies with a strained smile. “Thank you so much.”

He knew he should've used the private entrance to the suite.

Locking the door again, Baekhyun carries Mongryong down the Grand Staircase, losing count of the steps and growing more tired the longer he carries the Corgi. All those sausages he's sneaked to him must be adding up. 

Finally, they reach F-Deck. The staircase isn't as ornate as on upper decks, but it reaches nearly all of the activities and facilities offered to the first-class passengers. 

Along the Starboard side of F-Deck is the spa complex for First-Class passengers, listed as the Turkish Baths. The Squash Court is on G-Deck, the deck beneath F-Deck, but the Spectator's Gallery overlooking the court is on F-Deck. To reach the courts, passengers descend a staircase from D-Deck; it doesn't stop at the gallery. Baekhyun stops to look at directional signs mounted on a corner wall; kennels are listed below the dining saloon for third class passengers, the saltwater swimming pool, and Turkish baths. His mother will be spending a lot of time treating herself to spa services, always looking for the miracle remedy to wrinkles and loose skin.

Mongryong trots by Baekhyun's ankles as they follow the signs to the kennels. His large ears flip forwards and backwards, tracking all the sounds but knowing better than to run off and investigate. With a bark, he announces they're close; he can smell other dogs and animals.

One female passenger's small dog, declared “too pretty” to stay among the larger dogs, is allowed to stay in her cabin. Baekhyun thinks his Corgi is plenty pretty, especially when faced with the wrinkly, flat-faced English bulldog and bulbous forehead of a Cavalier King Charles spaniel in the first couple of kennels facing the door.

There are birds, as well, live poultry and pet songbirds. Each animal has its own quarters and dishes. They're nowhere near as lavish as Baekhyun's stateroom, but it's plenty for a dog.

“Okay, boy,” he sighs. “Pick a room.” He overheard a female ship employee sharing her relief with a coworker at the news that a potential passenger had chosen a different ship to transport his one hundred hound dogs, with the intention of starting an English-style fox hunt in the United States, so there are plenty of open kennels and much less barking.

Mongryong sticks his nose in the air and wags his t butt, barking as he takes off for an open kennel. Someone shouts, and Baekhyun hurries to catch up.

His dog has found the one kennel with a person inside, squirming and jumping on him as the boy tries to hide his face.

“Mongryong, _heel_. Sit!” His dog loves him, Baekhyun's sure, but he loves to misbehave even more and ignores him until the boy manages to catch him and hold him at arm's length with a gasp of laughter. “I am sorry about him,” Baekhyun apologizes, finally collaring his overaffectionate companion.

“It's alright.” The boy doesn't look like one of the first-class passengers. His slacks are wrinkled, and his shirt is unbuttoned to expose a bit of his chest. His face is flushed and shiny with dog saliva. He pushes a leather case surreptitiously behind him; Baekhyun wonders what it is. “Is this your kennel?”

“I think Mongryong just chose it because you're in it.” He half-shrugs and grins. “I was scolded by the _captain himself_ for trying to keep my dog in my stateroom, so, to keep law and order alive on the high seas, I've come to find appropriate lodgings for him.”

“Well, excuse me, then, sir. I'll get out of your way.” He folds his legs and pulls himself up using the chainlink of the kennel. He's tall, taller than Baekhyun, but stands with a bit of a slouch that implies a lack of confidence or desire to not stand out. With his leather case held close, he offers a small bow and waves at all the dogs as he leaves. The spaniel he had been petting lies down with a heavy sigh.

Mongryong sits on Baekhyun's foot and whines, already missing his new friend. He yips when the kennel door closes between him and Baekhyun.

“Sorry, Mongryongie. Captain's orders. I'll make sure you're walked lots and make plenty of friends.”

The passage is empty when Baekhyun leaves the kennels, although third-class rooms are much closer than first-class. Baekhyun looks to his left and right, following his natural instincts to find the staircase to the upper decks.

 

The first morning on the ship, Baekhyun sleeps in and misses breakfast, trying to get rid of the hangover from last night's launch party. He swims a few laps in the swimming pool and orders lunch from one of the cafes, then joins his brother in the men's lounge.

It's designed to resemble a typical gentleman's club, with dark paneling and stained glass windows. The only working fireplace is there, burning coal and adding to the cloying scent of tobacco as men toss cigarette and cigar butts into the flames.

He eagerly accepts a man's shuffleboard challenge for later in the day and passes the next twenty minutes debating going to the ladies' lounge. At least they can talk normally there. So he's been lead to believe, at least. Sitting in the company of a dozen quiet men isn't his idea of a good time, and he restlessly excuses himself.

Baekhyun gratefully steps out of the smoky haze and into the fresh, salty breeze. Smoke from his cigarette is quickly stolen by the breeze. He tosses it over the railing, immediately losing it in the waves caused by the ship's hull cutting through the water.

A lone sea bird cries, carried high on the wind. A couple talks lowly, heads together and hands shyly but firmly intertwined. Below, a steward walks a slow but eager trio of older dogs. A little girl pulls at her nurse's hand, pointing to the dogs. There aren't many children among the first-class; Baekhyun wonders if they're traveling with their parents.

Baekhyun turns so his back is to the railing and hops up to sit precariously. The water laps at the ship beneath him, waiting to swallow him should he fall. Tucking his feet over the bottom railing, he secures himself and tests the safety by leaving back.

_Thwap._

Something wraps around the railing by Baekhyun's leg. It's paper, thinner than writing stationary but heavier than newspaper. He looks at the lower deck and sees a boy looking up at him, clutching the remaining stack of papers to keep them from flying off his lap.

It's something to do, Baekhyun figures, and he waves at the boy, pointing to the deck to signal he'll come down and return the paper.

The boy is waiting on the same bench when Baekhyun walks around the pillar at the base of the stairs. He's handsome, with a face and figure girls fawn over. “Here you are. Drawing paper isn't easy to come by on a ship.” He hands the paper back with an apology. “It got rather wrinkled, unfortunately.” Even weighing his paper with his arm, the paper wrinkles and tears.

“Thank you.” His voice is low, deeper than Baekhyun expects. Something about him looks very familiar, too, and he can't place it. Wrinkled slacks, a partly unbuttoned shirt beneath a worn wool jacket...

“Forgive me, but have we met?”

The boy ducks his head. He sees Baekhyun as some sort of authority. “In the kennels...”

“Oh, yes! You broke Mongryong's heart when you left. He's not used to being apart from people for long. He was so excited to go on a walk that he peed on the steward's shoes and white trousers.” He tipped the man triple in apology. “What an embarrassing work hazard...

“So this is what you were doing, then? Drawing?” Baekhyun eyes the paper. It's wrinkly and dotted with moisture, but the boy still takes it and tucks it between other papers.

“Yes.” He drops his eyes to the deck, just beside Baekhyun's shoes. They're in need of another coat of polish and a good shining. The sea air does nothing pleasant to leather. “I also felt the animals may be lonely. My cabin is close by; I could hear them. The attendant said I couldn't enter kennels in use but could stay.”

“That's kind of you.” He glimpses the drawing partly hidden by the boy's arm and gapes. “May I see your drawings?”

He looks shy but hands Baekhyun what is evidently his portfolio.

“May I?” Baekhyun sits when given permission and gazes in wonder at a pencil drawing that looks ready to move right off the paper into life. “These are incredible...Kim?” He points to the name in the bottom right corner of one of the papers.

“My family name.” He offers his hand, shaking it once, firmly. “My name's Jongin.” His hands are rough and calloused but not unpleasant, Baekhyun thinks. He has rough spots on his fingers from using a pen or pencil frequently, but they're softened by expensive lotions and moisturizers his mother insists he uses.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kim. I'm Baekhyun. My family owns this ship.”

“You all must be excited about this voyage, then.”

Baekhyun nods. “Some of us more than others, but yes.” He's never been all that interested in the family business. His upbringing revolved around ships and shipyards and modern technology. Some of it was a lot of fun, but he didn't see his father all that often; he traveled for his work, and Baekhyun's mother, the second Mrs. Byun, traveled with him, leaving the two brothers in the care of a nurse and house staff and, later, boarding school staff.

“This one is interesting,” he says, leafing through the sheets to another pencil drawing. “I'd noticed you drawing this one, I think, and I admit I became curious as to what could hold your attention for so long. Were you drawing the ocean?”

“Only what I could see,” Jongin replies. It isn't finished, but it's very obviously the perspective of someone on a ship. The railing frames off the bottom of the page, with a bit of the bow in the lower right. Everything else is the water and sky with horizon in-between. Behind that is a page of messy portraits, then another page of sketched bodies wearing uniforms Baekhyun recognized as stewards.

“Oh—” He looks at his glove, stained black from graphite. A smear pulls the pantleg of a steward unnaturally. “I'm sorry.”

“That's alright. A hazard of the medium, really. Charcoal is even worse; I'm surprised I can even still breathe, sometimes, with how much charcoal dust I must have inhaled.”

They chat a little about drawing and the ship, mostly sitting in easy silence. Baekhyun isn't usually silent, but with certain company, he doesn't mind it at all.

The quiet moment is interrupted by a woman on the upper deck waving to Baekhyun and calling his name. “Come on, Baekhyun; Mother expects us for tea!”

Kim Taeyeon has a knack for showing up when least expected or wanted. Baekhyun does like her a lot, but their engagement is neither of their idea, and he's certain she has a young man closer to her age she's seeing in secret.

He waves to her in acknowledgment but doesn't make any move, carefully tapping the papers even and tucking them safely in their leather case. “Do you take commissions, Mr. Kim?”

“Given time and opportunity, yes. I'm actually hoping to find clients at our destination.”

“With such drawings, I'm sure you could find clients right on this ship, if you marketed yourself right.”

“Well, there aren't many people in steerage looking for a mantelpiece.” A lot of third class passengers didn't have a mantel at all. Or a house. 

“I'd like to commission a portrait. Of myself. If I like how it turns out, I may be able to introduce you to some people with mantels and money.”

“ _Baekhyun!_ ” Taeyeon is impatient, holding her hat on her head against the strengthening afternoon wind. 

“I must go. “ Baekhyun stands and straightens his jacket. “Can't disappoint the in-laws, but thank you for sharing your drawing with me, Mr. Kim. I'd love to see more, sometime, and we can discuss my portrait. Come to my cabin tomorrow morning, on B-Deck; we can talk over breakfast.”

The boy blinks stupidly, but he hurriedly nods and stands to shake Baekhyun's hand. “Alright... I look forward to it, sir.”

Baekhyun ascends the stairs to the upper deck slowly, taking his time and looking back every so often to watch the young artist. He looks a little shell-shocked, probably playing over the meeting and trying to come to terms with actually meeting someone interested in buying his work. There's a weird feeling in Baekhyun's chest, a bit of excitement and a bit of something else, but it turns to annoyance when his fiance immediately attaches herself to his arm and starts complaining.

“What took you so long, darling? Didn't you hear me?”

“I did, but I was negotiating a deal with an artist.” A steward opens the doors to the inner deck, and Baekhyun steps aside to let his fiance in first. She pushes her hair back into place and brushes sea moisture from her skirt.

“An artist? What for?”

“A portrait. If I like how it turns out, I may even patronize his future projects. He's quite talented.”

“Handsome, too, I noticed. Kind of foreign-looking. Did he say where he was from? Or his family?”

He didn't really care. “No, and I didn't ask.” 

Tea is livelier than sitting in the men's lounge. Women, he's found, no matter the age, love to talk, and they don't even have to know what they're talking about; they'll still talk animatedly. Baekhyun likes it. Some of his fondest boyhood memories are of having tea with his mother and her friends. He'd play piano, and they'd all smile and praise him and congratulate Mrs. Byun on such a talented son.

He misses that.

 

The next morning, he wakes up earlier than he anticipates. Sleeping on the ship is a lot like sleeping on land; the gentle rocking is barely perceptible and is more relaxing than inconvenient. Opening the doors and immediately tasting salt is what cuts through his hazy morning mind.

Calling for breakfast, it's delivered within a half hour., followed by a boy delivering the ship's daily newspaper. Steaming coffee sits among plates and bowls of food from every corner of the world, offering something familiar and something new for everyone on board.

The second bedroom is empty; his brother always rises very early and enjoys a morning run before breakfast. Baekhyun prefers to loaf around until told otherwise and lies back on his bed with the newspaper and eats a croissant with jelly, brushing crumbs from his chest onto the floor. 

He's reading about a squash tournament on G-Deck calling for participants when someone knocks on his door. It isn't even nine o'clock. He should've planned for lunchtime or even the afternoon, when he would be more awake.

The boy looks incredibly nervous in the hall, looking down the hall where a couple of ladies are blatantly eyeing him. Baekhyun greets him loudly. 

“Nothing to worry about, ladies. The only thing my friend is capable of stealing is hearts.” They giggle behind their hands and move down another hall while Jongin blushes a dusky pink.

“Come in. Please.” Baekhyun closes the door behind the artist and tucks the lapels of his robe more firmly closed. Jongin looks lost in the presence of the opulent stateroom, but Baekhyun doesn't immediately notice.

“Have you eaten? There are foods here from all over the world; please help yourself.”

Jongin is tempted but politely declines.

Baekhyun gestures to a plush armchair; Jongin sits on one of the straight-backed seats and carefully sets his satchel and supplies at his feet. He doesn't want to make a mess.

“Should I take my clothes off? I haven't even dressed this morning, and I apologize. Mornings make me incredibly lazy.” He intends it as a joke, but Jongin doesn't even smile.

“If you'd like. Do what makes you comfortable; it's easier to draw.” He explains that a formal portrait can take a long time, although once he has a form and understanding of someone's features, he can complete a drawing without looking at his subject. “Understand, sir, that how you pose is how you will look on paper.”

“Call me Baekhyun.” Sir is too formal, and Mr. Byun has always been his father. “So,” he says. “How do you want me?”

“On the couch, I think. It will be more comfortable.”

“The settee?”

“...Yes.” Maybe he didn't know there were different kinds of couches. “Sit or lie how you're comfortable, and hold still.” He starts with simple sketches first, gesture drawings while his client situates himself. Baekhyun lets the robe fall off his shoulders and arms and folds a leg to let the other dangle a little off the floor. His comfort with his body and natural nudity exceeds the norm. It used to get him in trouble at school, if only because the boys' grounds butted up against the girls', and their teachers grew tired of trying to distract them from watching Baekhyun sunning himself on the rocks beside the river after swimming.

Baekhyun offers Jongin a cigarette, which he declines, and lights his own. Reaching to drop the lighter and cigarettes on a side table pulls his side taut, and he catches Jongin's hurried movements to capture the look. 

“Ready?” Jongin asks, once Baekhyun is seated again.

“Any time.”

Jongin focuses on his work. He doesn't talk much to begin with, Baekhyun's noticed, but he's completely silent while drawing, and he can't think of anything to talk about that won't sound dreadfully pompous and dull. He likes the sound of the graphite scratching softly across the paper, the sweep of Jongin's hand as he brushes aside eraser pieces, and the gentle shush of the ocean through the open window.

He could fall asleep like this, right in front of a complete stranger. Who knows how he'd wake up, then, if he'd even wake up at all. If his room would be trashed or property stolen. Jongin could be hidden anywhere among the ship's ten decks or sitting across from him, sketching while he slept.

At their first break, Baekhyun stretches and sprawls shamelessly over the settee. “I don't think I've ever sat so still,” he admits. “My teachers always threatened to strap me to my desk.” He gets restless; he can't help it. He's always been antsy, always needing to bounce his leg or move his hands when he talks. He's social and active, fluttering like a butterfly or wriggling like a puppy wanting to play.

“We can take more frequent breaks, if you would like,” Jongin offers, stretching his arms over his head.

Baekhyun gets up and retrieves a plate of fruit. They're still cool, and he offers it to Jongin, who accepts a strawberry. “Do you want to see something pretty,” he asks, “without having to look in the mirror?” He doesn't give Jongin opportunity to answer, surging to his feet again and bounding towards the bed. A pretty bronze safe rests with the cabinet of a side table, decorated with some sort of crest. Baekhyun unlocks it and removes a black velvet box. “Here.” He offers it to Jongin. “Open it.”

“I shouldn't.”

Baekhyun scoffs with a smile and opens the lid himself, watching its contents reflect in the artist's eyes.

A large, cushion cut blue diamond—Jongin assumes it's a sapphire for its color—nestles snugly within an outline of delicate princess cut white diamonds that hang from a silver chain inset with more marquise cut white diamonds. It's opulent and extravagant and shinier than anything Jongin has seen in his life.

“It's beautiful. A wedding gift?” Baekhyun's pending marriage is big news among the first-class passengers and a popular topic of gossip that reaches even to the depths of the ship.

“Something blue, yes.” Baekhyun removes the necklace from its cushion, letting it hang far too carelessly from his hand. “My brother picked it out. After three marriages, he's apparently an expert. Taeyeon—Miss Kim, my fiance—likes expensive things, though, so it's perfect in that respect.” He resumes his pose on the settee and holds the necklace at the base of his throat with a playful grin. “Does it suit me?”

Jongin stares. Baekhyun almost asks him if he's fallen asleep, but he looks down his entire body with such intensity that Baekhyun blushes.

The artist stands and goes to him, gently taking the ends of the necklace and fastening them behind Baekhyun's neck. The jewels sit just below his collarbones. “Sit still,” he says softly. He moves his chair and turns to a clean sheet of paper.

It's different, something buzzing beneath Baekhyun's skin.

“Don't move.” Barely catching the mumbled _please_ , Baekhyun sits as still as he can. He can't watch Jongin now, and he really wants to, but his tone expresses something serious. The artist is at work, now. Before was just a warm up exercise. Gesture drawings are taken in the moment, expressing the figure of a subject, but when doing a formal portrait, it's best the subject stay as still as possible within the most consistent lighting and posture.

And Baekhyun does his best. Even swallowing, he consciously tries to make it as subtle as possible. The wallpaper is actually rather pretty, he notices for the first time. The crew that designed the stateroom—and the whole ship, he supposes—did a fantastic job right down to the crown molding details and matching the light switches to the lamps. He's probably met the designers before and didn't pay attention.

They don't take breaks like Jongin had suggested. Baekhyun sits for what feels like hours. His leg tingles and goes numb. He wishes he could grab another cigarette, but he can't move until the artist releases him.

Finally, Jongin sits up. He slowly leaned forward more and more until he hunkered over his paper as he drew. He looks from it to Baekhyun and back again, sighs, and arcs his back to pop his spine. “I'm sorry.”

“Can I move, now?” When Jongin nods, Baekhyun dramatically slouches, wincing at the sharp pins and needles in his leg. “I thought it was bad before, but now I feel as though I need to run laps around the deck! It had better be worth it, Mr. Kim. I don't think my leg will ever be the same.”

Jongin pouts anxiously, and Baekhyun quickly waves at the drawing. “It's fine; I'm joking. Let me see how it turned out, and I'll forgive everything.”

“It's not entirely done. The shadows need more attention, and the background is vague, but I wanted to focus on you.”

Baekhyun feels his eyebrows climb up his forehead. Careful to avoid the pencil lines, he stares at a drawing of someone both intimately familiar and strange. He's always thought he had an attractive waist, a feature ignored by girls, but Jongin seems to have paid close attention in rendering the bones of his hips and dip of his slender waistline. He recognizes his own profile, the mole over his lip, and freckles across his chest. There are multiple lines drawn that open his robe more than he had, exposing more of his body but drawing attention to the diamonds beneath his throat. 

He looks at his sketched face again and is taken by the expression. He can't remember what he was thinking about, but while his drawn posture is relaxed—complete with a smoldering cigarette barely held between his fingers—his eyes stare at something off the paper, making him look almost sad. Wistful. Deep in thought about something important.

“I actually want to paint it,” Jongin comments. He's chewing his lip, watching his drawing while Baekhyun admires it. “I think color will bring it more to life, particularly the diamonds. If I manipulate the light a bit, the color can reflect on your skin and add interesting dimension.”

“That...That all sounds incredible, but I'm already blown away by this as it is.” He holds the paper beside his face. “Do I really look like this?”

Jongin's cheeks turn pink again. “An artist draws from life, and even drawing the same exact thing, every interpretation will look completely different due to personal bias.”

“So you see me as really handsome?” The artist's blush darkens his ears. “I'm not criticizing; I just like being validated.” Baekhyun's happy to see Jongin smile at that and returns the drawing to him. “This is a commission well earned, Mr. Kim. Not sure if my wife would like it in our sitting room, necessarily, but no can say it isn't well done. So.” He retrieves his cigarettes and lighter again, unwinding with the scent of the familiar tobacco and collecting his thoughts. “I will write you a personal check, but I mentioned yesterday about introducing you to some people interested in art. My engagement party is tomorrow night—I really don't want to go, but with you as my guest, I can make introductions.”

“That's kind of you, sir—Baekhyun—“ he carefully slips his materials into his satchel, ”but I don't think they would accept my presence.”

“Why not? _You're my guest._ Who can say anything otherwise?”

“I'm not exactly presentable as a gentleman.” He's wearing the same trousers as yesterday, although the shirt looks different. Baekhyun understands his concerns.

Standing, he circles Jongin. He's a handsome boy. He's polite. Plenty of gentlemen are reserved without being rude. Trim his hair, find a suit, and no one would be none the wiser.

“Stand up, please. Let me see how tall you are.” Toe-to-toe, Baekhyun looks right at Jongin's chin. There's a twinge of jealousy, but it's gone when Jongin asks what he's looking for, and he can practically feel the thrum of his deeper voice. “Custom tailoring an entire suit takes time, but I know a friend of mine is very close to your size and always packs more than he needs.

“I will call him,” he says with finality, tapping the backs of his fingers against Jongin's chest, “and tomorrow we'll make you a presentable gentleman.”

“I think it'll take more than a suit to do that.”

“I have faith in you, Jongin. If you can charm me, you can charm anyone, and that's part of the illusion of the elite.”


End file.
